A Glimmer of Truth
by Katherine122
Summary: The 74th Hunger Games from Glimmer's point of view. Once you look past her beautiful exterior and into her cunning mind, you'll see that she was so much more than just another tribute.
1. The Reaping

**A/N: I had always thought that Glimmer was a character with a lot of potential, but nothing was ever really done with her. So I decided to write the Hunger Games from her point of view, to give her some more depth and show that there is more than meets the eye with her. Please review! Any and all reviews are appreciated. Thanks!**

I stood slightly apart from the group of girls that were huddled like sheep, with their wide eyes and dopey expressions. Any other day, I would have joined in on their gossip simply for lack of anything better to do. However, it all just felt too petty at the moment. I barely even heard their murmurs, barely felt the wind gently tossing my long blonde hair into my face.

The reaping was the most important day of the year to me. The most important day of the year to _anyone_ in District One. Here, getting your name chosen was an honor. We were trained our whole lives for this — I myself had trained three hours each day since the age of eight, learning what tactics would get the most sponsors, who to pick for alliances, and, most importantly, how to fight to the death. Sure, I had heard stories of Districts 11 and 12, about not having enough food, dying in the streets, praying to not be selected as a tribute. But they always seemed like myths to me, like the scary stories that parents told little children to get them to behave.

I hadn't gone all-out for the occasion like some of my shallower friends had. My hair hung straight and shiny down to my waist, and I was dressed in a simple lace shirt, a frilly skirt, and flats. However, it was enough. Every eye in the vicinity was on me.

I knew I was beautiful. People had told me so ever since I was a little girl. When I walked into a room, everyone would stop and stare for a moment before snapping out of it and continuing with their activities. Strangers would come up to me on a daily basis and say, "Wow, you're gorgeous." It wasn't really even a compliment anymore, just a part of my life, like knowing my own name.

Our district's escort, Kamilia Myers, stepped up to the stage and a hush ran over the crowd. Kamilia had slowly been promoted from district to district, and now she was in District One, the cream of the crop. It was her first year here, and she looked a bit dazzled. I smirked slightly-I would have done ten times better up there. "Welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games!" she trilled. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

Her six-inch heels clicked on the ground as she walked over to the ball containing the girls' names. Nearly everyone entered their name a bunch of times here, not for the meager grain that they gave you (everyone threw that away when they received it) but because they wanted to be in the Hunger Games.

Whether it was because I was beautiful or because I lived in District One, I had gotten everything I ever wanted. I was born to a high-ranking official, in charge of manufacturing fine lace and silk and sending it to the Capitol. We lived in a nice house with a big yard just a few blocks away from the town square. Any material thing that I desired, I immediately owned. Every boy in the district lusted after me, and girls clamored to be my friend. My life was perfect.

However, there was one thing that neither my beauty nor my parents could get me: a home in the Capitol. Every year, our class traveled there on a field trip. From the very first visit, I had been enthralled by the huge buildings, the colorful streets, the people with their made-up faces and eccentric clothing. Yes, I came from the finest district in Panem, but this was a whole other level of living.

There was one problem: you didn't just get up and change districts. People stayed in the district they were born into. Even the spoiled citizens of District One, the pets of the Capitol, had to make do with the district that they grew up in.

As far as I knew, there were only two ways to be granted life in the Capitol. The first was marriage. However, the odds of meeting someone on one of my passing visits to the Capitol was very slim, and besides, I wanted to be able to provide for myself. After all, just because I was beautiful did not mean that I wanted to end up as some trophy wife, nothing more than property of her husband.

There was one other option: winning the Hunger Games. The winner was always showered with fame and fortune, as well as attention from the Capitol. The less remarkable winners faded into the background after a few months, yes, but I just knew that _I_ would have a ticket to a life in the Capitol if I won. I just had to get into the Games first.

Kamilia dug deep into the clear bowl of names. We heard her perfectly manicured fingernails scrape the bottom of the glass, and then she retreated back to the microphone with a slip of paper in her hand. I barely had time to hope before she opened the paper and crisply read, "Glimmer Alvarest."

My mouth dropped open in shock, a whoosh of air coming out. However, I quickly arranged my face into a winning smile. The reapings were live on television, and I needed to start racking up the sponsors as quickly as possible. I briefly registered my friends congratulating me, some tearing up because they hadn't been chosen. _Babies,_ I thought to myself.

I extracted myself from my little posse and strutted through the cheering crowd towards the stage. Kamilia's face briefly flickered with shock at how stunning I was, then she composed it into a smile. "Congratulations," she chirped. Turning to the crowd, she asked, "Any volunteers?"

I wasn't worried about anyone volunteering in my place. Everyone in town knew how much I had desired this, and _no one_ wanted to be on my bad side. Just as a reminder, I raised a single, sharp eyebrow at the crowd, my expression saying _Don't you dare_. My wishes were respected: the only sound was the wind whistling through the trees.

Kamilia nodded. "Alright, now for the boys!" She didn't dig deep into the boys' bowl, simply plucking a name off of the top. "Marvel Adams!"

A boy with light brown hair, dark eyes, and deep dimples ran up to the stage, pumping his fist in the air. I had seen him around school, but he wasn't a friend of mine by any means. Marvel was a bit taller than me and buff enough, but didn't look like too much competition. To me, he looked like the kind of boy that thought he was so tough and acted all badass, but secretly wrote his feelings into a diary at night, or something of the sort. The kind of boy that could be very easily manipulated as long as you let him _think_ he was in charge.

There was one more reason that I had always gotten everything I wanted, other than my beauty and my birth status.

I could read people like no one else. And because I could read people, I could easily manipulate them.

I read my parents and knew just when to ask for more things. I read the boys at school and knew who to lead on and who to play hard-to-get with. I read my friends and knew who to respect, who I could control, and who would let me push their buttons as much as I wanted to. It was a natural skill, and I used it to it's fullest extent.

Marvel and I shook hands. I shot him a coy smile, and he grinned back at me, looking surprised and pleased. We then allowed ourselves to be led off the stage and into the Town Hall building by Peacekeepers. The one leading me started to take my arm, but I raised an eyebrow coolly at him and he let go immediately.

They sat me in a room with plush cushions, velvet couches and carpets, and crystal chandeliers. Nothing too fancy. I laid down on the couch and let it all sink in. I was going into the _Hunger Games!_ It was really happening! Fortune, fame, and a home in the Capitol were right around the corner! I giggled gleefully to myself.

After a few minutes, the visitors started pouring in. First my main group of friends, all squealing and shrieking in excitement, a few moaning about how they hadn't been picked. I let them chatter on for awhile before the Peacekeepers came and escorted them out.

Then it was boy after boy, some shyly wishing me luck, some promising that they would sponsor me if I needed help. A few outwardly told me how much they loved me, how they always had, how they believed I could win this, _blah blah blah._ I smiled, told several I loved them too, even burst into grateful tears when the moment called for it. After all, if I didn't play the part convincingly, those were just a few less sponsors for me.

Finally, the door opened one last time and my parents came in. "We're so proud of you, sweetie," they told me, tears running down my mother's cheeks.

I hugged them, sweetly thanked them, and told my mom not to worry, I had this in the bag. "Well, in case you ever need a little help..." my father started, pulling a gorgeous ring out of his pocket. "We've been saving this for a while, for if you ever made it to the Hunger Games. It can be your token from your district."

I took it questioningly, unsure of how this would help me in the Games. My parents smiled and motioned for me to twist it. I did, and a poisoned spike popped out. My face broke into a smile. " _Yes,_ " I whispered. Apparently my parents had no more qualms about cheating than I did.

They both kissed my forehead one last time, then the Peacekeepers knocked on the door. "Time to board the train, ma'am," they hesitantly told me. I smirked: I had a feeling that they wouldn't call just any tribute _ma'am._

I walked through the gilded halls of the Town Hall one last time, then boarded the train that would take me away to my fate. There was no fear in me, just a desire to start training and scheming. These bitches had _no_ idea who they were dealing with.


	2. So It Begins

Marvel, Kamilia, and I walked through the corridors of the train that would take us to our fate. The inside of the train looked like something out of a fairy tale: gilded furniture, carpets made out of the finest silk in the world, silverware that was actually solid silver. I was used to a very high standard of living, but this was the stuff from beyond my wildest dreams. _This_ was where I belonged.

Kamilia brought us to a car where two people, presumably our mentors, were waiting. The first was a man with cheekbones as sharp as ice and a steely glint in his eyes that said _I wouldn't be above killing you, or anyone else, right now_. The woman, however, was a blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty...she looked like an older version of me.

I put my reading skills to the test, and my first impression was that neither of these people could be easily manipulated.

Still, I tried. "Hi," I said brightly, extending my hand. "I'm Glimmer."

Their eyes raked up and down my body appreciatively, their expressions saying, _We can make something of you._ "Cashmere," said the woman, shaking my hand. "Gloss," the man added, cooly nodding at me while ignoring my attempt to shake his hand as well.

"And I'm Marvel," Marvel piped up. "Pleased to meet you!"

Cashmere and Gloss appraised him with frosty eyes, which had been so warm when they were looking at me. I smiled inwardly to myself; it looked like mentors weren't above playing favorites!

They motioned for us to take a seat. "Alright, might as well start strategizing now," Gloss said. "Here's how it's going to work: Kamilia takes care of the sponsors, although we have to seal the deals. Meanwhile, Cashmere and I are the ones training you. Cashmere focuses more on wowing the crowd and getting people to like you, while I work with you on strategies for the actual fighting aspect of the games. Are we clear?"

Marvel and I silently nodded our heads. We could tell these people meant business, which was definitely a good thing.

"Good," Cashmere said, leaning back in her seat and taking a sip of hot chocolate. "Now, first things first. We need to work out your angles." She turned to me. "I have a good guess what angle you'll use..."

"Sex appeal," I nodded in confirmation.

She turned to Marvel. "What angle will you be coming from? What makes you special?"

His face was blank. "Well, uh, I can be pretty funny when I want to be."

Cashmere shrugged. "Alright, I guess I can work with that." She looked at Gloss. "Your turn."

He leaned forward slowly. "What are your best fighting strengths and weaknesses?"

We talked for a while longer. I was reluctant to share any of my weaknesses-such as being incompetent with basically any weapon except a knife-with Marvel sitting right there, so I focused on my strengths. I was great at close-range fighting, especially with knives. I was quick, so I could dodge arrows, swords, basically anything that was coming at me.

However, I kept my most important skill, my ability to read people, a secret. I would tell my mentors in time, but there was no way that Marvel was getting it out of me.

Marvel revealed that he was good with a spear and a sword, but not great with arrows or knives. _Good,_ I thought to myself. _That will just make it easier to stab him in the back when the time is right._

"The main thing that we have to worry about right now," Gloss said, interrupting my thoughts, "is forming alliances. You two are Career tributes, and need to band together with the other Careers. Start with Districts 2 and 4, but keep a lookout for anyone else of worth. And that doesn't mean just brute strength," he added, glancing in my direction. "You'll need to be smart about choosing."

It felt like he was giving the advice only to me.

After we finished eating, Gloss and Cashmere instructed Marvel and I to go watch the reapings and take notes. Who volunteered, who cried, who looked like they came from a poor family. I watched diligently, taking in every detail of every person, while Marvel grew restless and began pacing around the room.

Only two tributes caught my eye. The first was a boy (well, more of a man) from District Eleven named Thresh, who looked like he could tear someone limb from limb as easily as I could tear paper. The second was a girl from District Twelve, the poorest one of all, who volunteered for her tiny sister. She clearly knew that she had no chance of surviving, yet she volunteered anyway. _Idiot_ , I thought sardonically _._ Only suckers put family above themselves.

I decided it was time to put my manipulation skills to the test. Marvel didn't seem like the brightest star in the sky, but I would still have to play this carefully. I summoned all of the acting skills that I possessed and willed my eyes to fill with tears.

Marvel glanced up, saw me crying, and jumped backward in alarm. "Um, Glimmer?" he asked tentatively, one hand outstretched towards me. "You...alright over there?"

I sniffled and shook my head. "Look, Marvel, I know I talk a big game, but the truth is, I have no chance in this competition."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "C'mon, Glimmer, you said yourself that you're good with a knife, and you'll get tons of sponsors..."

"Sponsors won't stop me from getting killed!" I squealed slightly hysterically. I took a deep breath, then turned the full force of my sea-green eyes on him. "Look, I need all the help I can get. I know it's a lot to ask, especially from someone so strong like you, but can I work a little extra with our mentors? You don't seem like you need much help, so I need to meet with them a lot and see if they can help me learn at least _something_ before I go into the arena!"

His face was conflicted. I could practically read the thoughts beneath the surface: on one hand, all his instincts went against letting his competitor get more help than him. On the other hand, however, he didn't see the harm in helping such an innocent, pitiful girl get a little more help, especially since she was a _hot_ , innocent, pitiful girl.

"Alright," he finally conceded. "You can meet with them whenever you need to. I don't really need that much advice anyway." Wow, he was already overconfident and we hadn't even reached the Capitol yet.

"Thank you," I said, putting as much emotion into it as I could. I touched his arm lightly, and he grinned at me. "Well, I'm going to bed. I want to be ready for our big debut in the Capitol tomorrow!" He nodded at me and I left the room.

As soon as I rounded the corner, the flow of tears stopped and I smirked to myself. That was much easier than it should have been. Now I could meet with my mentors as much as I needed to and rack up the sponsors, and he wouldn't think anything of it. By the time we got into the Games and he realized exactly how much of a threat I was, it would be too late.

I took a shower in my room and changed into a silk nightgown that was in a drawer. Disappointment flooded my mouth when I realized they didn't have any hair products. Not even a blow dryer! I guess I would have to wait until we reached the Capitol to tame my blond mane.

I got into the soft, dry sheets that were so much nicer than what District One had, and fell asleep twirling my ring with the poisoned spike concealed beneath the jewel.


	3. The Opening Ceremonies

**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks so much** :)

I woke up early, as the sun was just starting to filter in through the silk curtains. For the first time in my life, I didn't have to go to school, didn't have to hang out with tiresome, air-headed girls, didn't have to mind my parents wishes. All I had to do was focus on the task in front of me: The Hunger Games.

But right now, I didn't need to worry about the big picture. I simply had to focus on today's agenda: arriving at the Capitol and making a splash.

After dressing in jeans and a flowy shirt (a pretty outfit, but not too girly), I put my hair in pigtails. Some people didn't like pigtails-they thought they were too childish or something-but I didn't see what was wrong with them. They kept my hair off of my face, and didn't come loose as easily as a ponytail or a bun. If people wanted to underestimate me simply because of my hairstyle, that was their problem.

I strode into the dining car to find everyone else already at breakfast. "It's about time you got up, sunshine," Gloss chided me.

I glanced at the time. It was only seven in the morning; what were these people thinking?! I brushed off the comment and took a seat. After buttering a roll, I looked around expectantly. "So, what advice can you give us for today?" I asked.

"The Opening Ceremonies are the first time the people of the Capitol will really see you, aside from when you were reaped," Cashmere started. "As District One, you will be the first chariot coming out. This is good because the crowd will be paying extreme attention at the beginning, but also a disadvantage because they won't remember you very well by the end. So just let your stylists do their work, and work the crowd when you're in your chariots."

We nodded, then I eyed Marvel. My expression said, _remember the talk we had yesterday? I need some time alone with the mentors._ He caught my eye and stood up hastily. "I'm going to go take a shower."

Cashmere, Gloss, and I sat in silence until the door swung shut behind him. Then I turned to face them, staring them dead in the eyes. "Look, I will do anything to win this competition. Anything. So just tell me what it takes."

Cashmere and Gloss exchanged glances, then Gloss leaned forward. "Glimmer, Cashmere and I always pick one tribute to help over the other. It's only logical, since there can only be one winner in the Games. We talked it over last night, and decided that our choice this year is easy. Unfortunately, we're required to help Marvel at least a bit, but we'll give you all of the extra time and information that we can. We're backing you all the way."

My chest swelled with pride. They believed in _me_ more than anyone else. Not that I was surprised, of course, but it was always nice to hear.

"So first things first," Cashmere said, interrupting my reverie. "The Opening Ceremonies. This is one of the most crucial times. There will be hundreds of sponsors in that crowd, waiting to pick out the person that looks most promising. Now, you seem like a cunning girl. If your stylist doesn't give you as good of a look as you think you deserve, manipulate and push her until she does. I know you know how."

I smiled and nodded, thanking them profusely. _Now_ I was getting somewhere.

I walked out of the dining car and nearly ran smack into Marvel. "So what did they tell you?" he asked.

I made my eyes wide and innocent. "Well, I told them how nervous I was about going into the Games, and they just told me to believe in myself and that it would all turn out fine. It really helped my confidence."

He nodded, clearly amused that such a little baby was entering into the Hunger Games, the most ruthless competition in the world. It was all I could do not to snicker at his obliviousness. "Look!" he cried suddenly, pointing out the window. "It's the Capitol!"

I peered out the window at the cheering crowds of overdressed citizens, the tall buildings, the colorful streets, and experienced a sense of relief. _This_ was why I was in the Hunger Games. I was meant to live here. Just seeing the sights, even from a moving train, made me feel like I was home.

The crowd screamed when they saw that the train was carrying tributes. I grinned and waved at them, feeling so giddy that the smile wasn't even forced.

When the train finally slowed to a stop, we were all waiting at the doors to get off. Kamilia went first, waving enthusiastically with a huge smile on her face. Cashmere and Gloss came next, nodding coolly at the crowds but mostly just staring haughtily forward. Then I stepped into the sunlight.

The crowd went wild, most of the people not even sparing a glance for Marvel, who was walking meekly behind me. I strutted forward, looking beautiful but also strong, like a tribute should. I was gorgeous, poised, and utterly in control. I shot confident smiles at the women and gave the men seductive glances. They were all wrapped around my little finger by the time we reached the Training Center.

I was lead to a small room while my prep team (who reminded me of fluttery, semi-annoying little birds in a way) bathed me in a strange, bubbly liquid, then washed, dried, and straightened my hair.

After that, they danced around me for a few minutes, trying to find any imperfections to erase. I waxed my arms and legs, so there was no hair for them to remove there. I trimmed and buffed my nails on a weekly basis, so they didn't need to worry about that. And, unlike the barbarians in the rougher districts, I had no scars or scrapes to take care of. "Well, you're pretty much ready," one of them finally admitted (I hadn't bothered to learn their names).

They exited, and my stylist walked in. Her name was Cressida Topkins, and she had been the stylist for District One for as long as I could remember. With her purple hair tinted with streaks of gold, her glittery silver lipstick, and her eccentric clothing, she was pretty hard to forget. However, she was the best of the best; the tributes from District One looked better and better every year.

I recalled what Cashmere and Gloss had told me about manipulating my stylist into getting me the best outfit possible, and decided a dazzling, enthralling personality would best do the trick. So the minute she stepped into the room, I was off. I prattled about how much I _loved_ the Capitol, how everyone at home was so _great_ to support me in this, how _cute_ her emerald-green rhinestoned dress was. All I had to do was smile, giggle, and make grand gestures, and I could see her falling in love with my personality more and more every minute.

"You know," she said as she finished my hair-it hung curly and lush, spilling wildly over my shoulders. "I was going to go a more traditional route with your outfit, something more demure and classically beautiful. But I always say that the outfit should reflect the personality of the wearer, so we're going to go a different route."

I smiled to myself. _Mission accomplished_.

A few hours later, I stood in front of a full-length mirror, simply in awe of myself. My entire body was spray-painted completely silver, paired with a dress made of sparkling jewels. My hair added to the look with the lush, bouncy curls, and my makeup was sheer: just a little lip gloss and a lot of mascara. My entire body sparkled when I moved even the slightest bit, sending shards of light dancing along the walls. I seemed like a force bigger than myself, an entity from another world. In that moment, I could do anything.

Cressida and I met up with Marvel, who looked almost as dazzling as myself, and we walked down to where all the chariots awaited. All eyes turned to us when we entered, and I settled myself proudly into my seat.

"You two are fierce," I heard the District Two mentor saying to his tributes. I was pretty sure the boy's name was Cato, but I couldn't recall the girl's. "You're warriors," he continued. "No sparkly bubblegum unicorns-and-rainbows like the District One tributes over there."

My blood boiled. _Sparkly bubblegum unicorns-and-rainbows, are we_? They would see how much like a rainbow I was when I tore their damn throats out.

They nodded and the mentor walked away. I noticed the boy, Cato, eyeing me with some interest. I hesitated, then gave him a wink before turning away. I wasn't looking for any romance with another tribute for obvious reasons, but perhaps he was thinking that a steamy romance could win us some sponsors, and I was open to any ideas that might increase my chances.

"Now let's get started!" the announcer's voice boomed out. "First up, District One!"

Our chariot rolled out, and I was suddenly encased in a ball of noise. The crowd went mad at the sight of us. I caught sight of our faces up on the screen and my breath was taken away at how, well, breathtaking we looked. My dress shimmered and my face sparkled. I smiled and waved at the crowd, who were on their feet by now. I blew a single kiss, and the roaring escalated. I raised my fist into the air victoriously. No one could make more of an impact. No one. I could practically hear the money pouring out of the sponsors' pockets.

We took up more airtime than we deserved, even when we pulled into the City Circle. The screen barely showed the three chariots behind us. I continued to smile and wave, feeling exhilarated. I had done what Cashmere and Gloss told me to. My impact was made, and my chances for victory in the Games had increased tremendously.

The District Two tributes pulled up next to us, looking sullen and resentful. "I guess our sparkly bubblegum unicorns-and-rainbows strategy wasn't too bad after all, was it?" I said to the girl tribute, smirking, my voice too low for any cameras to hear. She bared her teeth at me, but I thought I saw Cato crack a smile at my comment before quickly reassuming his fierce demeanor.

I kept watch, but no one outshone us. Now only District Twelve was left, and there was no chance for them.

So when two fiery, beautiful creatures came into the city, I gasped. They were literally _on fire!_ How the hell was that even possible? It was the girl that volunteered for her sister. She was working the crowd better than I would have thought possible, and her and the boy were actually holding hands. Why would they do that?

Damn their stylist. Thanks to him, whoever he was, Marvel and I were suddenly outshone. Second-best. And that was not how I operated.


	4. Training

I stormed my way back into our level of the Training Center, angrily wiping sparkles off my face. Marvel trailed in behind me, looking fairly unconcerned. "Hey, Glimmer, it's okay," he started.

"DON'T tell me this is okay!" I shrieked. He leapt back, and I realized I must look fairly deranged. But at the moment, I didn't even care. "I _need_ those sponsors, Marvel! And now they're going to go to District 12, the shithole of all the Districts!"

"I'm not so sure about that." Cashmere breezed into the room. "About a hundred people came up to me after the Ceremonies, asking about you, and a lot more looked like they wanted to. I'd say at least half of the potential sponsors are rooting for you."

"Oh," I said, slightly mollified.

Cashmere cocked an eyebrow. "Now, don't get me wrong, that's not an excuse to be second-best. You need to outshine the District 12 kids in every way possible until the Games start, and that starts with performing well in training."

"She's right," Gloss added, sitting down at the dinner table. I sat down as well and helped myself to some cream and rose-petal soup; I hadn't eaten all day to prepare for the Ceremonies, and it smelled amazing. "Show off your best skills tomorrow. Marvel, for you that would be spears and swords, and Glimmer, knives and quickness. The Gamemakers are _always_ watching, even during the three training days. Start off strong. Oh, and make alliances quickly. The Careers need to bond over the training days."

We nodded, then drifted off to our separate rooms. I took an extra-long shower, scrubbing hard to remove all the glitter from my body, the remnant of what I considered a disastrous night. After putting on beautiful silk pajamas, compliments of the Capitol, I got into bed, twirling my ring with the poisoned spike. It was my focal point, the thing that both reminded me of home _and_ the fact that I had to focus all my efforts on the task at hand.

The next morning I got up, feeling well-rested and sure of myself, ready to put last night's little episode behind me. I slipped into my training suit (black spandex with red and gray piping, _perfect_ for showing off my body) and headed down to the Training Center, ready to get started.

The other tributes trickled in as I warmed up, and as soon as they had all arrived I let my skills loose. I picked up several knives, then spun around quickly, hurling them at the target. They hit the bulls-eye, of course. Next, I ran straight for a dummy and leapt clear over it, slashing it's head off in the process and landing cleanly on my feet. I then motioned for one of the fighting instructors to come over: I needed to show my quickness and dodging abilities. Putting my weapons down, I faced her empty-handed. "Give me all you've got."

She pulled out a sword and took a few hesitant swings at me, which I dodged easily. Then it got more intense. She thrust the sword at me and I had to backflip into the air to avoid it. I could tell she was impressed, and I smirked. This seemed to irritate her a little, so she pulled a knife out of her pocket and threw it at me. I went into a full-on split to evade it, then jumped up and ran after the knife. I dove for it, somersaulted cleanly back onto my feet, and ran at her. Panicking a little, she backed up, and I used the top of her head as a springboard to cartwheel over her. I gently pressed the tip of the knife into her back, careful to not even rip the fabric of her clothing. "Gotcha."

The instructor seemed stunned. Smirking, I handed her knife back to her, then turned to gauge everyone else's reactions. The Gamemakers were nodding, impressed. The other tributes watched me with wide eyes, then turned back to their station, eager to make as good of an impression as me.

A _ding_ sounded from the elevators, and everyone paused as the District 12 tributes stepped into the room. " _Late,_ " I muttered to myself.

"No surprise there, though, right?" a deep, arrogant voice sounded from behind me. I turned to see Cato smiling haughtily at me, his eyes canvassing my body.

"True," I shrugged, then went back to work.

I passed through all the stations that I found necessary: the offensive ones, how to survive best in any terrain, etc. However, I steered clear of the supplies and food stations. I was a Career, and we always got all the food from the Cornucopia.

The whole time I was working, I kept Gloss's words in mind about needing to make alliances. Putting my reading skills to the test, I watched all the other tributes to see who would be of most use to me. Other than the District 2 and 4 tributes, only a few stood out in my mind.

First, there was Thresh, the District 11 tribute. Strong and powerful, he looked like he could rip through metal with his bare hands. There was also his district parter, the little one, whatever her name was. I didn't want her as an ally, by any means, but she looked quick and smart, and hard to catch. We would need to take her down early. There was also the District 3 boy. He wasn't very physically imposing, but he aced every logical question thrown at him. He was smart, and smarts might come in handy in the arena.

The last one that caught my eye was the District 12 girl, Blueberry or whatever plant she was named after (they had such strange names in that district). She and her district partner stuck together the entire time, working on the most boring stations. However, she looked restless the whole time, and her eyes kept flickering towards the rack of bows and arrows. _She's hiding her talent_ , I thought to myself.

At lunch, Marvel and I met up again. He _had_ been quite impressive with the spears, but nothing compared to me or Cato, who was wicked with swords and just brute strength. "Time to make alliances?" I asked him. He nodded, and we headed for the District Two tributes.

"Hi," Marvel said brightly to the tributes. I wanted to roll my eyes at his cheeriness. "I'm Marvel, District One."

"Cato," Cato said, shaking his hand. The girl followed suit, introducing herself as Clove.

"And I'm Glimmer," I offered, crossing my arms (I didn't like shaking hands; it had always seemed formal and awkward).

"I know," Cato replied, winking at me. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, then turned to Clove. She nodded hello at me, grimacing slightly.

I motioned for the District Four's to come over, and they joined our little group. The boy's name was Marlin and the girl's Nettie.

"So let's cut to the chase," I said bluntly. "We're the Careers, the strongest six of the bunch. Are you guys up for an alliance?"

They all glanced at each other, then nodded. "Great!" I chirped, smiling my prettiest smile. "Then let's go get some lunch."

It continued that way for three days: training and showing off, eating with the Career pack, training, going over the day with my mentors, sleep.

We talked over who else to form alliances with, and in the end, the only one we all agreed on was Thresh. I kept my mouth shut about the District 12 girl and her hidden talent, wanting to see how it would play out. We asked Thresh to join our group at the end of the second day, but he not-so-politely declined. I was a little offended at first, but brushed it off. Thresh being by himself would just make it easier for us to kill him.

At lunch every day, Cato made a point to sit next to me. He also somehow always ended up at a station near me, flexing his rippling muscles whenever he thought I was watching. I thought this was a little weird — I was fine with flirting in front of the cameras, but there was no audience to watch us during our training sessions, so I didn't understand what he was doing. Marvel and Clove noticed Cato's behavior as well — more than a few jealous glances were thrown at us throughout the training days. To me, it was all ridiculous. Yes, better men then Cato had succumbed to my beauty and charm, but surely everyone realized that no emotional attachment should or could be formed between tributes.

At last the time came for the evaluations. I wasn't nervous, though, just ready. This was my chance to prove to the sponsors that looks weren't the only thing I had going for me, that I was actually a fighter. Plus, I really wanted to show Blueberry or whatever her name was that she would need more than her stylist to get her through these games.

Against me, she would need a miracle to make it through just a few days.


	5. The Evaluations

We lined up in the small, cramped room, waiting to go in and perform in front of the Gamemakers. I wasn't nervous at all: they had seen me perform spectacularly in the three days of training, and besides, who could resist giving all _this_ a great score?

Marvel was called in first. I wished him luck apathetically, not particularly caring whether he messed up or not. In return, he told me that he knew I would do great, to just believe in myself, blah blah blah. I nearly burst out laughing, amused that he still thought I was a wimpy little baby who couldn't take care of herself.

"Nervous?" Cato — who was sitting next to me _again_ — asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "As if."

"Oh, cocky already?" he grinned.

"Says the cockiest guy I've ever met," I laughed, elbowing him in the side.

He put his hand over his ribs, feigning injury. "Hey, no fighting another tribute before the games!"

"Oh, you gonna tell on me?" I asked, leaning over and punching his arm repeatedly.

"Ah, no, somebody help! She's vicious!" Cato yelled, pretending to cower in fear.

We were both still cracking up when a deep voice rang out. "Glimmer Alvarest. Proceed to the evaluation room."

Taking a deep breath, I cracked my knuckles and headed into the evaluation room. "Good luck," Cato called after me. I turned and grinned at him, surprised that my smile was actually genuine.

My footsteps echoed into the silence as I stepped into the Training Room. All of the Gamemakers were there, looking focused and intent. One of the perks of being from District One was that Gamemakers always paid attention to you since you were first. I walked over to the knives, gave myself a moment to take a deep breath, then jumped into action.

First, I hurled two knives at the ceiling and watched as they went one after another into cracks between the panels. Then I whirled around the room, flipping over dummies and cutting their heads off, rolling between their legs and stabbing them square in the back. Going into a series of back-flips, I tossed a knife perfectly into a dummy's heart while I was in the air each time. Then, for my last move, I sprinted as fast as I could at a wall, crossing the gym in a matter of seconds, and ran up it, backflippng off of it and landing on a dummy's shoulders. Triumphantly, I drove my last knife through the top of the dummy's head and jumped back onto the ground gracefully, then looked at the Gamemakers for their reactions. They were nodding, clearly impressed. "You may go now," the Head Gamemaker told me warmly. I nodded, tossed my hair, and strutted out of the room, giving them a stunning over-the-shoulder smile on my way out.

I grinned the entire way up to my floor. My performance back there would definitely get me in the 8-10 scoring range. Most tributes (other than Careers) were lucky to get a five. I smirked at the thought of Blueberry, the District 12 tribute, helplessly watching as her embarrassingly low score flashed across the television screen for the world to see. This would give her a reality check, make her realize that she would need more than a mildly attractive face and a good stylist to get through the Games.

A burst of noise greeted me as I entered the dining room, where everyone was about to start dinner. "How'd it go?" Gloss asked, leaning forward animatedly. I started to rave about how perfect it had been and how every single knife had landed spot-on, but then thought better of it. Marvel still thought I was a weak little girl who had gotten by on her looks, and I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could.

"Well, I just did what I had worked on during the practice days, and I think they liked me," I said, widening my eyes and giving a dopey smile to further enhance the innocent schoolgirl effect. Marvel gave me a sympathetic-yet-encouraging smile before digging into the food that an Avox had served. Cashmere and Gloss both raised their eyebrows, but quickly realized what I was doing and dropped the subject immediately.

As dinner went on, the talk turned to Gloss and Cashmere's experiences in the Games. "I remember my Hunger Games!" Gloss reminisced enthusiastically, gulping down a soda. He had told us that Cashmere and he remained completely sober throughout the duration of the Games, so they could focus wholly on helping their tributes. "I got a training score of ten. Highest in the games. My knife work must have really impressed the judges."

 _Interesting,_ I thought, pondering the fact that Gloss and I had the same skill. The connection made me trust him even more. With a start, I remembered watching his Hunger Games on television, and realized that he couldn't be much older than I was.

Cashmere was also recalling her own Hunger Games experience. "After my brother won, I wanted to follow in his footsteps, so I volunteered the very next year. I remember winning and how happy and pampered I was for the next few months." Cashmere smiled, her eyes glassy and far away. "At least until..." Her smile faltered, and she quickly went back to eating her soup. Suddenly, I vividly recalled hearing that the more attractive Hunger Games victors are used as prostitutes after they win. For a moment, I was filled with alarm _It doesn't matter,_ I told myself, quickly brightening up again. _I can take care of myself. Nothing like that will happen to me._

I was jolted out of my train of thought by Gloss suggesting that we shower and change before the scores were announced in about an hour. Quickly finishing my dinner, I headed back to my room to do so. I took an extra long time in the shower, enjoying playing with the buttons that controlled the different scents, temperatures, oils, soaps, and shampoos. Once I won the Games and took up residency in the Capitol, I could do this every day.

After showering, I changed into skimpy silk shorts, a low-cut tank top, and my ring with the concealed spike. I no longer went anywhere with out it — it was my connection to both my past (District One), my present (the Hunger Games), and my future (the Capitol). I put my hair into my trademark pigtails.

Marvel and I happened to exit both of our rooms at the exact same time, although I had a lingering feeling that he had been watching through his peephole, waiting for me to come out. "You look nice," he shyly complimented me, his eyes canvassing my body. "I know you'll do great tonight."

It took all of my strength not to snicker at his puppy-dog expression. As if a scrawny nobody like Marvel would ever have a shot with someone like _me._ "Thank you, Marvel." I batted my eyelashes at him. "That's so sweet of you to say."

We walked into the sitting room, where Cashmere and Gloss were waiting for us. "Hey, why don't we invite the District 2 tributes to come watch the score announcements with us?"

Gloss nodded approvingly. "Great idea. That way, your whole team can figure out who will be the easy targets and who you'll have to watch out for, together."

"Plus it'll mean more bonding time for you and Cato," Marvel muttered under his breath. I glared at him; I didn't want my mentors thinking that I was becoming unfocused and going after a boy. Didn't Marvel know that Cato's flirtations with me were purely for the audience?

The District 2 tributes accepted the invitation, and soon everyone was gathered around our television. No one mentioned inviting the District 4 tributes; although no one said it out loud, it was practically common knowledge that we would kill them off first. They were just little add-ons to make our group bigger.

The national anthem played, and then the first score was shown. It was Marvel's; he received an 8. A murmur of congratulations echoed around the room, and before I even had time to hope, my score flashed on the screen. It was a 9.

"Great job," Gloss nodded approvingly while Cashmere flashed me a beautiful smile that had probably gotten her tons of sponsors in her day. Cato, perched in his usual spot by my side, gave me a one-armed hug and a big smile. "I guess I'm not the only one who deserves to be cocky here," he quipped, referring to our playful banter earlier. Although I smiled at him, I was a bit confused. There were no cameras here, no other tributes, no audience to watch us. What was the point of his affection towards me, if not for the crowd? I saw Gloss watching us, eyebrows raised. When our eyes met, he gave me a look that said "We'll discuss _that_ later." Marvel, meanwhile, was looking at me with shock and anger. Clearly, my helpless-pitiful-baby ruse was up.

The scores continued. Cato, of course, got a ten. I congratulated him warmly, patting him on the thigh. I figured that even though I didn't know what his angle was for the flirting thing, I might as well go along with it in case he had some master plan or something. Clove, meanwhile, got a nine. "I guess you and me are evenly matched," she chirped, smiling sweetly back. I smiled back with equal exaggerated sweetness. This was nothing new: I had had plenty of frenemies before. I'd just never had to _kill_ one, but oh well. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Not many other tributes got a score worth commenting on. Thresh, however, got a ten, the first one since Cato. Marvel whistled. "We'll have to keep an eye out for him," I muttered.

Finally, Blueberry was the only one left. I leaned forward in anticipation as her picture and score popped up. At first, I thought my eyes were seeing double. Surely she had only gotten a one, and I was just seeing two of them? But no, everyone else's reactions made it clear that there really was an 11 on the screen.

I jumped off of the couch, screaming in fury. Everyone looked up, alarmed. "Hey, Glimmer, it's okay," Cato started to say. Although his voice usually had a calming effect on me (though I couldn't explain why), right now it just irritated me more. I stalked off to the dining room, knocking over a table on the way out.

 _How_ could she get a higher score than me? What did everyone see in that little street rat from District 12 that made her so _wonderful?_ I ran my hands through my hair, angry tears pouring down my cheeks.

Gloss followed me into the dining room. "Hey. Never let any other tributes see you lose control again," he told me harshly, a firm hand on my shoulder. I nodded, wiping the tears from my face and pinching my palms to make myself focus. "Good. Now, I'm not going to lie, that girl is going to be a real threat," he said, his voice low. "Do you have _any_ idea what she could have done to get a score that high?"

"It has to be the bow and arrow," I muttered, my teeth clenched. "She hid her talent during the training days, but I could see her just itching to get her hands on them."

He put one hand on each of my shoulders, looking me deep in the eyes. "Alright. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to outshine her in interviews tomorrow night, and then, if there is a bow and arrow in the arena, you're going to get to it. I don't care what or who you have to sacrifice. _Do not_ let her get to the weapon that gave her a score of 11, do you understand?"

I nodded. Oh, I understood alright. Blueberry had just made an official enemy. And in the arena, I was going to kill her with her own favorite weapon.


	6. Interviews

I awoke early the next morning. My very first thought, accompanied by a rush of embarrassment, was of my outburst the previous night. I had let myself look weak and distracted, and I could never again afford to let that happen while in the presence of my competition. From now on, I was going to remain cool and focused on the task at hand, and right now that task was to be the most memorable in interviews tonight.

I exited my room and almost ran right smack into Marvel, who happened to be walking by. He muttered a reluctant "good morning" then strode off down the hall, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. I snickered; the poor baby was still upset that I had taken advantage of him and pretended to be feeble and helpless. Didn't he see that all was fair in love, war, and the Hunger Games?

I made my way into the dining room, as always admiring how the sunlight reflected off the expensive silver plates and cutlery. Everyone else was already sitting, bleary-eyed, around the table. While we ate, there was no noise but the clinking of forks. Finally I spoke up. "So what's the plan for today?"

"Cashmere will handle the presentation aspect of interviews and I'll handle the content," Gloss explained. "We start as soon as breakfast is finished."

My part with Cashmere turned out to be a breeze. She had me put on a dress and heels to practice walking, but soon realized that I didn't need coaching on that. Next, we looked in a mirror and practiced what expressions to pair with different words, which angle of my face should face towards the cameras, where the light caught me best. "Basically every aspect of your face is pleasurable to look at, so I don't think you need to worry about that part too much," she told me, grinning. I beamed back, loving all the compliments that my mentors bestowed upon me.

For the last part, she asked me a few basic questions and had me practice which facial expressions I would use while saying them, then told me I was ready to go. "I'm supposed to have another hour with you, but maybe we can switch early," she mused, checking her diamond-studded watch. "We're done here, and besides, I'm sure Marvel could use all the help he can get."

As it turned out, Gloss was ready to switch as well. "I wanted more time with you," he told me once Marvel and I had switched rooms and he was no longer within earshot. "I'm fairly sure that you don't need any help with content, so we're going to work on your actual training for the Games. What is your best skill?"

"The knife," I said without hesitation.

"Me too," he grinned, pulling two throwing knives out of his pocket.

We fooled around with knives for a while, seeing who could hit the bull's eye more often, who could better throw a knife while doing a backflip and have it stick between panels in the wood. We also practiced fighting each other with the knives. Although I was faster, he was stronger, and eventually he had me pinned to the ground.

For a moment we laid there, breathing heavily, our noses less than an inch from each other. After a second, he seemed to come back to his senses and jumped up quickly, clearing his throat. I smiled inwardly as he helped me to my feet; it was always enjoyable to watch the effect I could have on men, even older ones solely focused on their jobs.

"So," he said, sitting back down, already back to business. "I get the feeling that you're good at reading people. Is that true?"

I nodded. "It's my number one talent."

"Alright then." He leaned forward animatedly. "Read me."

I took a deep breath and focused, taking in everything about him, thinking back to what I had noticed in the past few days. "You volunteered for the Hunger Games solely because you like challenges, not for the fortune or fame. But you were worried sick when your little sister volunteered the very next year, because you're fiercely protective of her, even though she doesn't realize it. However, you didn't realize what a burden it would be to mentor tributes and watch them die every single year. That's why you try to stay emotionally detached and play the tough guy. You can't stand to get close to them and then have them taken away from you. It gives you a tough exterior, but sometimes when you're alone you break down and-"

Gloss was very still, and for a moment I was worried that I had gone too far. But he smiled after a second. "Wow. That was incredible. Where did you learn to do that?"

I shrugged. The talent had been a part of me for as long as I could remember. That, combined with my beauty, was how I had always gotten everything I ever wanted.

Gloss looked at me long and hard. "Glimmer, why did you want to be selected for the Games?"

"I want a home in the Capitol, and the Hunger Games will get me that." I braced myself for him to snicker, to wonder in disbelief why I would bet my life for _that._ But it was all I had ever wanted, and to make it happen I would fight to the death...literally.

Instead, he shrugged. "Understandable. Alright, you may go."

I rose, slightly taken aback at the sudden dismissal.

A few hours later, Marvel and I were in the elevator heading down to the stage where the interviews would be conducted. Cressida, my stylist, had gone all out: my shiny blonde hair spilled over my shoulders in elegant curls, my eyes looked wide and huge thanks to expertly applied makeup, and I was dressed in a short, somewhat see-through gold dress that clung to every inch of skin. I did not even look like a tribute; I looked like a model for one of the Capitol's main fashion lines.

While admiring myself in the elevator door's reflection, I could see Marvel trying and failing to keep his eyes off of me. Eventually, blushing like a tomato, he stammered out, "Y-you look beautiful, by the way."

I nearly burst out laughing. It seemed like Marvel had gotten over his anger at me fairly quickly. "Thanks," I said, not really meaning it.

The doors of the elevator opened, and we were ushered into the room just off the stage where the interviews would take place. I wasn't nervous, just excited. This was my debut in the Capitol, the first time that people would get to know _me_ , not my fighting skills. This was my first impression on people I would be with for the rest of my life, once I won the Games and made my home here. I was ready.

I was also eager to finally outshine Blueberry. She might have a good stylist and be alright with a bow, but she was closed off, guarded. I had only noticed because of my excellent reading skills, but now, after the interviews, the rest of the world would too. That would be the end of Blueberry's short time in the spotlight.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom, anxious to check that my hair and makeup still looked flawless before going onstage in front of millions of viewers. On my way back, I passed Cato in the hall.

He did a double-take when he saw me. "Glimmer! You look…amazing. Wow."

"Thank you, Cato," I responded, shocked that my thanks were, once again, genuine. I actually appreciated his compliment, and couldn't be more surprised by that. "So what angle are you playing tonight?"

He spread his arms wide. "You know me. Ferocious and bloodthirsty. I barely even have to act," he said with a grin. "What about you?"

I looked down at my see-through dress with a smirk. "Is it not obvious?"

"Oh. Uh," he laughed, running a hand through his short blond hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is." To my surprise, he was not staring directly at my tits like most men, but instead seemed to be pointedly looking anywhere else. How surprisingly genteel.

"Well, I'd better be getting back. I do have to go on first, after all," I said, giving myself an excuse to get away from this strangely polite Cato. It _had_ to be an act, but I wasn't sure why he would be acting with no one around to see.

He nodded and I began to walk away, but as I was leaving he grabbed my arm. "Just…good luck out there," he muttered, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. He strode away quickly, leaving me to stare in bewilderment at his retreating figure.

Marvel and I took our places at the front of the line, since we were from District 1. We passed frantic backstage people, stylists dabbing on last minute makeup, mentors shouting instructions for interviews. All of the tributes were standing silently, some looking ready, some looking as if they needed to hurl.

"We're on in five!" someone shouted as Cato took his place in line behind Marvel and me.

"Go win some sponsors with your hotness, alright?" Cato grinned, once again the cocky tough guy.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I've got them wrapped around my finger," I responded, giving him a coy smirk.

Although I kept a winning smile plastered on my face as I turned back towards the front, I was a little shaken up at what had happened in the hallway. I shook my head to clear it. His sweetness had simply been acting, as had mine. I didn't care what Cato thought of me. I _didn't_. Our flirtiness was purely for the audience, and we both knew it. Definitely. "For the audience, Glimmer," I repeated to myself out loud, earning a weird look from Marvel.

Suddenly, the lights grew bright, and the curtain parted in front of me. I kept a huge smile on my face as the tributes took the stage.

Showtime.


	7. Outshone

"Let's hear it for our first tribute, Glimmer!" Caesar's voice rang out. A spotlight beamed down on me. _Showtime,_ I thought to myself excitedly.

I made my way across the stage, listening to the roaring of the crowd. I waved excitedly then, keeping my cool, blew a dainty kiss to the audience. Cashmere smiled proudly and gave me a thumbs up from the front row.

"Well, Glimmer, you look beautiful as always," Caesar greeted me as I took a seat.

"Why, thank you, Caesar." I accepted his praise gracefully, attempting to look both humble and confident all at once.

"In fact, you might even look more beautiful than you did at the Opening Ceremonies, if that's possible. All decked out in jewels. That represents the luxury items that District One makes, am I correct?"

"Yes, that's right," I nodded, remembering what Cashmere had told me about keeping my face turned at the right angle so the light would catch it perfectly.

"Do you have any interest in pursuing that industry when you come of age?"

"Well, my father is in charge of manufacturing lace and silk and exporting it to the Capitol, so I wouldn't rule it out." Maybe I would get some brownie points with the Capitol citizens if they knew that my father was important, practically one of them.

"Very good. Now, speaking of your parents, how did they feel when you were selected as a tribute? Happy? Nervous?"

"Oh, they were very proud of me. I've been training my whole life for the Hunger Games, so they definitely believe that I can win this." I put as much emphasis as I could on the fact that I had been training my _whole life_. The audience needed to know that I was ready.

Caesar patted my knee. "As do I, my dear girl, as do I." He continued, "So how have you been enjoying your stay in the Capitol thus far?"

"Oh, I love it!" I made my eyes wide, playing up the whole bubbly starstruck girl aspect. "Everyone is so welcoming!"

Caesar grinned. "Well, I'm sure they are to such a smart, beautiful girl like you! I bet you'll just rack up the sponsors. Am I right, folks?" The crowd, which had been listening intently up to this point, let out a roar of approval. I smiled so wide that my cheeks began to hurt; this was going even better than expected. I could practically hear the money pouring out of the sponsors' pockets.

"So," Caesar continued, the crowd quieting immediately. "You certainly seemed mighty happy to be selected as tribute. Is there any particular reason for that?"

I decided it was time to lay the flattery on thick. "Well, I've dreamed of competing my whole life. Who wouldn't want the glory and fame of winning? After all, the winner gets to spend more time here in this amazing city!" The crowd let out a deafening cheer at this. I practically had them eating out of the palm of my hand.

Caesar was chuckling. "Well, can't argue with that! Speaking of winning, let's talk about that impressive nine you scored in training. What skills did you show off to achieve that?"

Oh, no way in hell was he getting _that_ information out of me. I gave him my best mysterious smirk. "Now, Caesar, if I told you that then there would be no surprises left for the Games!"

"Ah, we've got a mysterious one on our hands! No, I can understand not wanting to give your adversaries any advantage over you. Smart girl, smart girl."

I nodded, giving him a confident yet slightly smug smile.

"Well, Glimmer," he said, leaning forward. "I've just got one more question for you."

"Ask away, Caesar."

He glanced at the audience, making sure he had their full attention, then looked back at me. "Are you ready to compete in the 74th annual Hunger Games?"

I paused for dramatic effect, giving him my best smoldering look. "Caesar, I was born ready."

The crowd roared, giving me a standing ovation as Caesar thanked me and I headed back to my seat. I felt like my insides were glowing. That could not have possibly gone any better. My first impression was made, and it was a fantastic one. _Beat that, Blueberry_ , I thought to myself gleefully.

I listened on and off as other tributes took their turns. Marvel was mildly funny, earning a hearty laugh here and there from the audience. Clove went for a witty, mysterious, slightly dangerous angle, and pulled it off pretty well. Cato, of course, went for the strong, tough, cocky, sort of scary image, and it worked marvelously. I could see the audience growing more captivated and assured of his power by the second. I even caught myself staring at his rippling biceps before immediately looking away, giving myself a mental slap.

No one else was particularly noticeable, except the boy from Three. Although I could see the audience losing interest in him as soon as the first words came out of his mouth, I myself was intrigued. My particular talent at reading people told me that this boy was a genius, great with technology, and could be a valuable asset if used right. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him in the arena.

Soon enough, Blueberry from 12 stepped up to the plate. I leaned forward, half-expecting her to pull some amazing story out of her ass. But she was, in all honesty, forgettable. At one point, she started twirling around in her frilly little dress and only stopped because she was "too dizzy." Cato and I made eye contact, and he gave an exasperated eye roll while I silently pretended to barf, which made him crack up.

Before I knew it, her interview was over. I smiled to myself. _Ha!_ Looked like Little Miss Perfect wasn't so special when she didn't have a bow and a stylist at hand. I could practically read the sponsors minds: Goodbye, Blueberry, hello, Glimmer.

I wasn't paying very much attention to the boy from her district's interview, and only looked up when I heard gasps and squeals from the crowd. Quickly rewinding what he had just said in my mind, I realized that he had just declared his love for Katniss.

A fiery anger spread through my gut. Unbelievable! She didn't even have to _do_ anything, and now all of a sudden she looked desirable. I could imagine the headlines now: tragic star-crossed lovers from District 12. Did they plan this? From the flabbergasted look on her face, I guessed that that was unlikely. So once again, the bitch only had to sit there while someone else made her look good. Once again, all the attention went straight to her without her having to lift a finger.

This could not _fucking_ be happening. My fists and teeth clenched in rage. But then I stopped myself, taking a deep breath. _Easy, Glimmer_. The last thing I wanted to do was blow up in front of a huge audience, make myself look fickle and unsteady. I felt Cato, Clove, and Marvel's stares on my back. Clearly, they were remembering my outburst from last night and were wondering if I would do it again. But they needn't worry; I was under control. To steady myself, I pictured what the expression on Blueberry's face would look like when the light left her eyes and her last thought was the realization that I had beaten her. I internalized all my anger, saving it for the arena.

Still, the second that the tributes were allowed to leave the stage, I was up and out of there. Just because I was under control didn't mean I wanted to talk to anyone about what had just happened. She had outshone me, not once, not twice, but _three_ times. And the third time would be her last.

I crammed myself into an elevator without looking at who was in it, and somehow ended up in the same one as Blueberry herself. Although I glared daggers at her back the whole ride up, she didn't seem to notice.

On our level, I grabbed some dinner, brushing off Marvel and my mentors when they tried to speak to me. I was focusing all my energy visualizing what tomorrow would look like. This was why I was here, after all: not to wear pretty dresses, not to impress some Gamemakers, but to fight to the death. I fell asleep quickly, feeling extremely prepared.

Tomorrow would be the start of a whole new life.


	8. Here We Go

Sunlight streamed through my window. My eyes fluttered sleepily, then suddenly popped wide open. Today was the day.

I was going into the arena.

Breakfast was unusually silent, the only sound being the gentle clink of china. In the blink of an eye, we were at the door, saying our final goodbyes to our mentors. Cashmere and Gloss both clasped Marvel's hand briefly, wishing him the best of luck. After he exited the room, Cashmere drew me into a warm embrace. "You have beauty _and_ brains," she whispered to me, arms still wrapped tightly around me. "And that is such a rare gift. Use it wisely."

"I will," I whispered back, surprised at the rush of emotion that swooped through my body. I was not usually one for sappy goodbyes, but I realized that I would truly miss my mentors. _No matter,_ I thought to myself reassuredly. _You'll see them again, when you're a victor just like them._

Cashmere finally let me go, hurrying out of the room as tears fell from her clear blue eyes. Gloss hesitated, then pulled me into a hug as well. "We believe in you," he said gruffly, letting go of me rather quickly. "Go kick some ass, and we'll see you soon."

I smiled and nodded, turning to leave. When I was nearly at the door, he called out, "Oh, and Glimmer? I know that whatever you're doing with Cato is purely for the audience, probably because you think that some romance will rack up the sponsors. But just make sure you don't blur the line between acting and reality."

I paused with my hand on the doorknob but did not turn around. After a few stiff moments, I proceeded to walk out of the room. Of course I wouldn't _blur the line_ between my fake romance and the real deal. Cato and I both knew what we were doing.

Still, the spot where he had kissed my cheek last night, even though no cameras were around, began to tingle.

A hovercraft picked up Cressida, my stylist, and me, transporting us smoothly to the arena. I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes as I soaked in this one last luxury — after all, for the next week or so I would be living in rougher conditions than I had ever experienced.

"Ma'am?" A hesitant voice pulled me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a male flight attendant, pointing apprehensively at the ring on my finger. "I'm sorry, I know that's your token from your district, but I'm supposed to inspect it really quickly and make sure it doesn't give you any unfair advantage."

My pulse quickened, but I forced a laugh. "An unfair advantage?" I asked, my voice dripping with skepticism. "If you know of any way that a _ring_ could be an unfair advantage, I would love to be enlightened."

He blushed crimson. "I—I know, ma'am, but it's just standard procedure," he stuttered, looking completely stricken. "Please, I could lose my job if I don't inspect it."

Reluctantly, I handed it over. My worst fears were confirmed almost immediately: as soon as the attendant ran his fingers over it, the stones twisted and the poisoned spike popped out.

He looked at me, thunderstruck, and I quickly morphed my expression into one of extreme shock. "I've never seen it do that before in my life!" I gasped.

He was at a loss for words, clearly not accustomed to dealing with tributes attempting to cheat. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to report this . . ." His voice trailed off as I made my eyes fill with tears.

"Please," I squeaked. "I was just trying to bring a token from home. I didn't know it was a weapon, I swear. Can we please just let this one slide?"

After going through some sort of brief internal struggle, the attendant murmured his assent. "I'm afraid I can't give you this back, though," he said apologetically.

I smiled warmly and assured him that I understood. As soon as he walked away, though, I groaned and leaned back in my seat, throwing my arms over my face. Sure, I had gotten out of disqualification, but now my district token, my focal point, the thing that kept me grounded, was gone.

"You don't need it," Cressida assured me, patting my shoulder. "It's the thought of winning that will keep you going, not some object."

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes. She was right. I couldn't let this deter me from focusing one hundred percent on the task at hand.

In what seemed like no time, a tracking device had been inserted into my arm, the hovercraft had landed, and I had changed into a comfortable, loose outfit. Not the best for showing off my body, but I sensed that I already had enough sponsors racked up to make it by without using my allure any more.

Cressida led me into a room with a circular launch pad in the middle of it. After giving me a few last-minute pieces of advice and a quick squeeze, she left me in the room alone. Adrenaline rushed through my body as I stared at the launch pad: _this was it_. The moment that I had been waiting for my whole life was finally here. Now was my chance to prove myself, to show everyone that I was more than a pretty face, to earn a home in the exclusive Capitol itself.

"Prepare for launch," a cool female voice rang out. I took a deep, calming breath, then stepped onto the pad.

As a glass cylinder lowered around me and the tube rose into the air, I stared straight ahead in determination, my mind racing to review all my years of training, a confident smile on my face. I wasn't nervous — just ready.

Let the Games begin.

 **A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter isn't super long, but I wanted to get right up to the moment that she entered the Games so that I could jump right into the action in the next chapter! I'll have the next one up tomorrow. As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks guys!**


	9. Let the Games Begin

The tube glided smoothly up through seemingly solid ground, and the next second I was blinking in the bright sunlight. My pulse quickened; I knew I had a mere sixty seconds to prepare myself for the bloodbath.

 _First things first. See where you are_. My eyes quickly roved the area. There was a lake a few hundred feet away from the Cornucopia — undoubtedly that was where we, the Careers, would live and keep our supplies, as it was an easy source of water. Next I moved my gaze to the tree line. _Dammit._ It seemed that this arena was mostly forest, which would give Blueberry an advantage since she spent most of her primitive life crawling around in the woods for dead possums or whatever. Cursing under my breath, I swiveled my gaze to the other side of the arena. It seemed to simply drop off into nothing, but I sensed that that was not the case. Interesting. That would have to be investigated later.

Looking around at the other tributes, I found myself locking eyes with Cato from across the field. _He could be dead in less than a minute from now,_ I thought to myself, surprised and irritated that this caused a flood of — could it be anguish? — coursing through me. By the panicked expression on his face, it seemed that he was thinking the same thing about me.

I broke our gaze, giving myself a mental shake. There couldn't be more than twenty-five seconds left before the buzzer sounded, and I had more important things to worry about. Quickly, I scanned all the loot that the Cornucopia contained. Food, tents, weapons, flashlights even luxuries like sugar. I might actually be able to live quite comfortably during these games. My eyes narrowed in on the mouth of the Cornucopia, which held in it over a dozen knives, sharpened to perfection. I would have to get my fair share before Clove took the lot.

Suddenly, I noticed a shiny new bow and arrow sitting about forty yards in. Beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead, I scanned the crowd for Blueberry and saw her staring in determination at them. _Oh hell yes, here we go_.

My muscles twitched in anticipation. At that moment, every fiber of my being was focused on one single goal: get to the bow and arrows. All I wanted was to watch the life fade from her eyes as I killed her with her very own weapon of choice. _Let's show all those sponsors who the_ real _threat is here, Blueberry_.

I could almost taste the tension that hung heavy in the air as the final seconds ticked away. No one spoke; the only sound was the occasional nervous gulp from one of the weaker tributes.

Then the gong rang out, and all thought was wiped from my mind. My feet flew off of the metal plate almost of their own accord, and I was sprinting flat out towards the Cornucopia, blood pounding in my ears, my pigtails gliding through the air behind me like blonde ribbons.

In less than ten seconds, my hand closed triumphantly around the metal shaft of the bow. In one fluid motion, I slung the pack of arrows onto my back, grabbed a knife laying a few feet away (just in case), and then spun around to face Blueberry, who I was sure would be right behind me. To my surprise and chagrin, she was a ways away, backing away from Clove, who was advancing on her with a knife. _Oh well, at least she'll be dead, even if it wasn't me who killed her_ , I thought wryly, enjoying the sight of the crippling fear on Blueberry's face.

However, my amusement turned to chagrin when Clove somehow lodged her knife in Blueberry's backpack as the latter sprinted into the tree line. Fantastic, now she got away _and_ had a weapon! Shrieking in frustration, I turned and drove my knife into the back of the nearest tribute, the boy from District 5 who had been hastily collecting the jars of food scattered around. His body contorted in anguish as I pulled the knife out, then he fell to the ground and did not move again.

A funny feeling rushed through me as I stared down at his limp body, at the open eyes that would see no more. He was the first person that I had ever killed, and although I had trained my whole life for it, I was not used to actually ending a life. My brow furrowed in confusion — could this be what _guilt_ felt like?

A noise behind me pulled me from my reverie. Instincts taking over, I spun on my toes and drove the knife right into the heart of the girl from District 7. As she keeled over, I snorted. _Nice try, amateur_. As if she could sneak up on _me_.

I felt no guilt about my second kill. Maybe assassination was simply an acquired taste.

I ran into the Cornucopia which, to my extreme pleasure, had a whole wall devoted to glossy throwing knives of varying lengths, all sharpened to perfection. Clove had already taken some, but I picked out my favorite half-dozen, admiring the shiny blades that gleamed as though they couldn't wait to be lodged in someone's back. I wrapped a belt that hung nearby around my waist, carefully placing my new prized possessions in the loops.

After that, I was off. I flew around in a whirl, stowing the best supplies inside the Cornucopia, slashing tributes as I flipped over their heads, finishing off the feebly stirring ones on the ground. Cato, Clove, Marvel, and I were unstoppable — Cato was ruthless with his swords, Marvel threw his spear with such force that it could have skewed a wild boar, and Clove's aim with the knives (although I hated to admit it) was flawless. The District 4 tributes killed their fair share as well, though they paled in comparison to the likes of us.

The air was thick with screams and hung heavy with the smell of blood. At one point, I was bending over, checking out what was inside a backpack, when I happened to glance over at Cato. He was too busy pulling his sword out of a dead tribute to notice the boy from District 8 creeping up behind him, slowly raising a fearsome-looking axe over his head.

The blood drained from my face. "Cato, duck!" I screamed, launching a knife across the field towards the pair.

He did not even hesitate when he heard my voice, hitting the ground immediately. The knife whistled through the air and landed directly in the heart of the District 8 boy, who staggared backwards and dropped his axe, a look of surprise on his face. Within two more seconds, he was laying lifeless on the ground.

Cato jumped to his feet quickly, giving me a look of surprise and gratitude. "You saved my life," he said, too softly for me to hear from such a distance — I had to read his lips to understand him.

I nodded briskly, then quickly turned away and continued wreaking havoc on the other tributes, irritated at the flood of relief that had gone through me when Cato's life was no longer in danger.

After ten seconds, ten minutes, ten years — time loses all meaning when you're fighting for your life — the scene was finally still. Cato, Clove, Marvel, Nettie, Marlin and I met by the Cornucopia, all of us panting and glistening with sweat. Nettie had a good sized gash on her leg and Marvel's shirt was torn, but other than that, none of us looked too much worse for the wear.

I broke the silence first. "Good work, team," I said, grinning coyly.

Most of the other tributes just nodded Curtly, but Cato returned my grin. "You're not too bad with a knife, Glim."

"I guess you don't _completely_ suck with a sword," I fired back, smirking.

Our banter was interrupted by a sound from behind us. We turned to see the District 3 boy stirring feebly — it appeared that he had just been knocked out instead of killed.

Marlin rolled his eyes. "I'll take care of this one," he muttered.

As he advanced on the boy, however, I remembered what I had deduced during training. "Stop!" I shrieked, launching myself between Marlin and the boy.

He looked at me incredulously. "What the hell, Glimmer? Get out of the way." He attempted to brush me aside, but I stood my ground.

"This boy is a genius," I said firmly, my arms outstretched on either side of me, shielding District 3 Boy. "We have the brawn, but we need the brains too. We keep him, and outsmarting all of the other tributes will be a hell of a lot easier."

Cato, Clove, Marvel, and Nettie all looked thoughtful, but Marlin wasn't buying it. "We don't need some little nerd's help. Let me just finish him off and make it eleven dead in the first day!" Marlin tried to go around me, but I began to protest again. Losing his patience, he knocked me roughly to the ground and raised his spear over the District 3 boy, who let out a feeble yell of panic.

Suddenly, Marlin froze, emiting a low gasp. Six pairs of eyes stared in shock at the sword tip protruding from his chest. Then, before a single word was uttered, he crumpled to the ground, twitched, and was still. Cato stood above him, pulling his sword out of Marlin's chest.

"Glimmer said not to touch District 3 Boy, and Marlin didn't listen," Cato said harshly, staring around at Clove, Nettie, and Marvel, all who were watching in openmouthed shock. "Does anyone else have a problem with letting him live?" he continued, his voice dangerously soft.

The rest of the Careers all shook their heads quickly as the cannon began to fire. Including Marlin's, there had been eleven deaths on the very first day.

I got back to my feet and walked over to the shaking District 3 boy. "What's your name?" I asked kindly, crouching beside him.

"Fl—Flux," he answered, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

"Well, Flux, we're going to need some help here." I gave him one of my most winning smiles. "We have a whole lot of food, but no way to ensure its protection. Is there any way you can think of to help us with that? Any contraption you could build, or something?"

Flux, clearly realizing that this was a matter of life and death for him, furrowed his brow, thinking hard. I could almost hear his brain whirring as he looked around. Suddenly, his eyes landed on the metal starting plates, and his face brightened. "Yes," he said confidently. "I know exactly how to do that."

I followed his gaze, not understanding. "What…" Then my mouth dropped open, forming a perfect O. "Flux, you're a genius!" I squealed, almost giddy.

"Could one of you geniuses fill the rest of us in, please?" Clove called in annoyance. She, Marvel, Nettie, and Cato had been watching the two of us dumbfoundedly.

"The mines." I turned to them excitedly, helping Flux to his feet. "The mines under the plates. Flux can put them around the food and create a trap!"

Their eyes lit up. "Wow," said Marvel, stunned. "That's, like, really brilliant."

Our excitement was interrupted by a rustling in the trees at the edge of the forest. Instantly, we were all facing the noise, weapons in hand, crouched and ready to annihilate any straggler that thought they could hang around and steal some of our food.

To my immense shock, the person who stumbled out of the woods, arms raised to show that he wasn't attacking, was none other than the boy from District 12. He stopped about 20 feet from our group. Silenced stretched as we stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break it.

Eventually, he spoke. "I want to join," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Cato laughed loudly, although it was completely void of humor. "And what makes you think we want _you_ , Twelve?" he asked, cracking his knuckles.

Twelve maintained his ground, holding our gazes with confidence. "Because," he said, crossing his strong arms. "I can take you to her."


End file.
